


My Body Followed Where My Soul Should Have Gone

by BabyBarnOwl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:25:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBarnOwl/pseuds/BabyBarnOwl
Summary: 10,000 years is far too long to really get your head around, but Shiro has to. He's been asleep that long, and he doesn't know why.
What he does know is that lookalikes of everyone he's ever met keep popping up, and he can't stop thinking about the new Keith.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I suddenly got this idea and really wanted to write it. I will update my other stuff soon!
> 
> Things you need to know before reading are:  
> Zarkon has been defeated by the start of this fic  
> Reincarnation exists

“Princess! Where are the others? We have to find them!” Shiro yelled. The ship shook, almost de-balancing him. He grabbed for the wall, stabilising himself.

Allura grabbed the doorframe she stood in, further down the corridor from Shiro.

“This way!” She called. When the shaking stopped, he ran for her. There was no one else about. She disappeared into the room.

Another wave of shaking hit when he reached the door, slamming him into its frame.

“Is it Zarkon?” Shiro asked, breathless.

Allura was clutching a healing pod, trying to enter something into it with shaking fingers.

“Princess! Has Zarkon returned?” Shiro asked, louder this time.

Her head shot up to look at him, as if startled by his presence.

“No, she said quietly, then with more conviction, “Zarkon is dead.”

“Then who’s attacking us?” Shiro inquired, crossing the room as he spoke.

Allura took a deep breath, and spoke without looking at Shiro, “it’s the alliance.”

“We are the alliance,” Shiro replied, confusion colouring his words.

Allura pursed her lips and pressed a button that opened up the healing pod she was facing. Then she turned to look at him, her eyes were hard, like she was steeling herself against everything.

“Allura?” He asked, more worried than he’d ever been.

“I’ll explain everything when you wake up,” she said. Shiro glanced at the pod and then back to her face.

“I can’t, not without my team, and what about you?”

Allura looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. 

“They’re already asleep, I’ll join you soon,” she said, it sounded like a lie. He took a step towards her.

“Shouldn’t we fi-,”

“No,” she cut him off, hard look returning to her eyes.

Another jolt rattled the ship, sending him careening forwards. His hands flung out before him grabbed the closest thing, which was the healing pod.

A flash went through Allura’s eyes, and she grabbed him. He was stable for a moment, and then she pushed him forwards, into the pod.

He whipped around, her name on his lips, but it was left unsaid as the pod froze him.

-

“Can you believe it? We’ll literally be meeting a piece of history.”

A soft, affectionate, chuckle.

“Yes, imagine all the things he can tell us.”

The voices felt familiar, but neither belonged to Allura.

Shiro could feel his consciousness coming back to him, his cold body waking up.

“He should wake up in about half an hour.”

A sever underestimation, but still no voice from the princess.

Shiro’s eyes snapped open.

“Allura!” Shiro called out, stumbling forwards.

Someone, smaller than himself, caught him.

“Oh, shit!” a voice yelled, muffled by this frame.

Shiro stepped back, mumbling an apology, but his voice trailed off as he took in the room.

It wasn’t the same as the one he’s fallen asleep in. For a start, it was messier. There were tables covered in tool and random objects. Bits of metal, and everyday objects. He could one of the Galra rovers on a table in the far corner.

“Uh, Welcome to the future?” the person who had caught him said. Shiro turned his attention back to him.

“Matt?” He asked, startled. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him when the boy had caught him.

“Yes! How did you know? Do you have some kind of psychic ability? Is it unique to your species, or does it come from your connection with Voltron?” Matt replied, grin spread across his freckled face.

Shiro frowned, he did not remember Matt having that many freckles…or that many arms. Shiro was no expert in biology, but humans tended to have two arms, not four.

“Slow down, give him room to think,” a kind voice said, placing a hand on Matts shoulder. Shiro followed it up to the speakers face.

“Mr Holt?” Shiro asked.

“It’s pronounced Hult, but yes. How did you know?” the elderly man asked. Shiro blinked and took a good look at his body. Like Matt, he had four arms.

“I-,” Shiro started, and then looked around, again, “where am I?”

“Welcome to the Voltron institute, the universes finest research facility. Well, that’s what the top brass want everyone to think anyway,” Sam Holt, or was it Sam Hult, said. Shiro looked at him questioningly. “It didn’t exist last time you were awake, which is why you haven’t heard of it. To be honest with you, you weren’t supposed to be awake quite yet. We thought it would take at least another half an hour. Shows how impressive lost technology is.”

“Lost techno-,” a small pool of dread settled inside Shiro’s gut, “how long have I been asleep?”

Matt’s eyes lit up, but the elder Holt (Hult?) looked concerned, perhaps catching on to Shiro distress.

“We’re not truly sure, records get a little hazy if you go back further than six thousand years, but at our estimates, somewhere between nine and ten thousand years. It’s a miracle you survived this long!”

Shiro stared in horror. Ten thousand years, as long as Allura had been asleep, as long as Zarkon’s now dead reign. Far longer than any human lifespan. These people weren’t Matt and Sam Holt.

Shiro reached out to steady himself on the side of the healing pod. His head was swimming; the world was swaying.

“Matt, get a chair,” the elder alien said, reaching out for Shiro, “try to stay calm. Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, slowly. Yes, like that.”

Matt scrapped a chair across the floor, settling it next to Shiro.

“Hey! You ready to get this popsicle out for the unveiling?”

Everyone turned to the wall on the right. Someone was sticking their head around the door there.

“Is that? Oh, fuck,” they whispered, as their eyes fell on Shiro, “I, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Get Coran,” Sam Holts (Hults?) look-alike instructed. The head nodded furiously before disappearing. 

“The others,” Shiro croaked, finally falling into the chair offered to him. Neither Holts replied.

Shiro repeated himself, “the others, where are they?”

The uncomfortable look on their faces told him his answer.

“You’re the only Paladin we’ve ever found. The others-,”

“they’re dead,” Shiro finished for him as he buried his face in his hands. He wanted to cry, or scream, but he couldn’t. All he felt was pure shock.

A reassuring hand rested on his shoulder, but no one spoke.

There was the creak of a door, and then the clack of footsteps on the floor as someone new walked closer. Shiro felt like he should look up to greet them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Someone cleared his throat, “Hello,” they said, and Shiro opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, “I see you woke up a bit early,” they continued, “a bit of a miscalculation, but maybe it’s for the best.”

“We can’t go through with the unveiling,” the elder Holt (Hult) said.

“Definitely not, but we can’t send everyone away. We have news crews, and Politian’s here,” the new voice replied.

“We could show them the healing pod,” Matt offered.

“Yes, we’ll explain what’s happened and hope for the best,” Sam Holt (Hult) said, squeezing Shiro’s shoulder sympathetically.

Shiro, finally, raised his head slightly to look at Sam, “what is this unveiling?”

Sam took a deep breath before speaking, “you were the find of millennia. A still breathing living being from ten thousand years ago. We’d announced to the world that we found you, and today we were going to show you to the world, and then wake you up, to talk to you.”

“Our calculations were a little off,” the new voice added. Shiro finally looked at him, and his breath hitched. He was looking at Coran, but not Coran. The moustache he was so proud of was gone, and instead of one set of pointy ears he had two, but he was the spitting image of the Altean.

“Do you feel up to cameras?” Coran(?) asked. Shiro shook his head, he was still trying to get his head around being asleep for ten thousand years. He had too many questions of his own to answer someone else’s.

“Alright. Sam, help me get this sleeping pod onto the stage. Matt, check the Champions vitals, and keep him company.”

Shiro went stiff at the name ‘Champion’, he was often called that, but it still made him feel sick every time he heard it. How, after all this time, did people still know that title?

“Got it,” Matt said, getting up to retrieve a device from the one of the nearby messy tables.

As Coran(?) walked past him to the healing pod Shiro noticed that it was on a low cart with wheels.

“It’s a healing pod,” He said absentmindedly.

“What?” Coran(?) asked.

“It’s not a sleeping pod, it’s a healing pod,” Shiro told him. A spark of interest alighted in Coran’s(?) eyes.

“Really? How interesting. Do you know it works?” he asked, and Shiro shook his head, “a shame,” the spark stayed in his eyes, “ah! Forgive me, I never introduced myself. I’m Coran, head of the ancient artefacts division.”

“Takashi Shirogane, please call me Shiro,” he replied in a tired voice. A grin spread across Coran’s face, like something great had just happened.

“Shiro…Shiro! An excellent name!” Coran said. Sam chuckled from next to him.

Matt returned to Shiro’s side holding something he had never seen before.

“We should get going. Can’t keep the people waiting for too long,” Sam said, as Matt held out his hand towards Shiro.

“Can I have your wrist?” he asked. Shiro nodded, and held it out to him. Matt placed a strange fabric around it with some wires attached to a handheld device. It stared beeping the moment he put it on.

Behind him Coran and Sam pushed the healing pod away, and out the door to where Shiro presumed the stage was.

“Everyting seems fine,” Matt said, but Shiro was still looking at the door to the stage.

There was a pause and then Matt spoke again, “do you want to go out there?”

“No…,” Shiro said, his attention back on the look-alike of his friend, “I just wondered what things were like now. How did you know who I am?”

Matt grinned at him as he took the fabric off his wrist.

“You have no idea the amount of confirming we had to do before we officially announced it was you. We went through videos, documents, possible DNA. Everything matched.”

“Videos?” Shiro asked, there had been very few videos taken of him as a paladin. There were the ones on earth, but also…

“Your fights! In the arena. Everyone’s seen them, heck I practically grew up on them,” Matt told him, still grinning.

Suddenly, Shiro felt sick. After ten thousand years’ people still knew, still saw, and still enjoyed what he’d been forced to do. He couldn’t stay here, listening to this.

Shiro stood up so fast Matt flinched back.

“I-,” Shiro didn’t know what to say, how to express how much he didn’t want to be here, or why.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I,” his eyes went back to the stage door, “can we watch?”

Matt looked a little surprised, “yeah, sure. There are a lot of people out there, it’ll be easy to blend into the crowd. I just hope dad and Coran don’t spot us,” he chuckled, “that’d really surprise them.”

Shiro nodded, half listening, but mostly concentrating on thinking about as little as possible.

“Oh, not that way,” Matt said, as Shiro turned towards the stage door, “if we want to be in the crowd it’s best to go around.”

He started towards the opposite door, and Shiro followed him. They exited into a corridor, and suddenly Shiro could hear a roar of voices, all chattering and indistinct.

They walked down the corridor towards the sound. Matt opened a door, and revealed an auditorium full of people. 

Cameras lined the front and back of the room, whilst the seats were brimming with smartly dressed people.

Matt grinned at Shiro’s shocked face, and with a tug on his sleeve he led them towards the back of the room. They settled against the back wall among the other latecomers.

Shiro was getting comfortable when the double doors to his left were slammed open and a plethora of suited men, who had the distinct look of guards, marched in. Behind them a woman walked in, and, again, Shiro lost his breath.

It was Allura. Not a strange look-alike, but Allura. The same age, the same hair, the same ears, the same dress, the same species.

Without thinking, Shiro moved away from the wall and towards her.

He faintly heard Matt call his name, but he didn’t stop.

“Allura,” he whispered, then louder, “Allura,” she didn’t seem to hear him, “Allura!” he called.

One of the guards stretched out an arm to stop him as she turned, finally hearing him.

“No further, buddy,” the man said in a rough voice.

“Allura! What happened? Why did you put me to sleep?” Shiro asked, ignoring the arm.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him, and then turned away. Shiro felt like someone had slapped him. How could she…Why did she…

He felt a hand on his arm. It was Matt.

“That’s Senator Allura. I’ve heard all the woman in her family bear a striking resemblance to each other, but not whoever you’re looking for, she’s only 222 years old,” he whispered to Shiro.

Matt tried to tug him back to the wall, but Shiro’s eyes couldn’t leave Allura. The slapped feeling hadn’t lessened at all.

“They’re about to start,” Matt hissed to him, and Shiro let himself be dragged away. The moment they reached the wall a voice boomed out across some kind speaker system.

“We apologise for the wait, there have been a few unforeseen developments. We will be starting momentarily.”


End file.
